


A Resignation

by nadia5803



Series: nadia’s king lear au [8]
Category: King Lear - Shakespeare
Genre: do i ship them? maybe just a little as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:14:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24117070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadia5803/pseuds/nadia5803
Summary: Albany's resigned himself for far too long, and now the aftermath is getting to him.
Series: nadia’s king lear au [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612093
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	A Resignation

**Author's Note:**

> albany and goneril are parents in this au! they have a daughter, gwen, just because i think a single father albany hits different. forgive me if this isn't the best i'm trying to get ahold of his character ;-;

It had been a while since Albany had heard from Kent and the others. Mostly, he’d kept to himself. A passing appearance at the litany of funerals. A few shared texts and returned favors, but otherwise, he’d been at home. Trying to figure out how to raise a 4-year-old on his own because suddenly Goneril was dead and there was an empty house. 

An empty, cold house. Besides Gwen’s colorful toys, and the gaudy shirts and socks he finally took out from his cabinet, the house was nothing but a monochromatic variety of grays and browns. He was happy to share it with his daughter, at least. After all, the sun still set, the rain still poured, and the sky remained blue. The world would not stop for a tragedy, no matter how great. 

Albany had resigned himself to being the odd one out of the trio, and he was fine with that outcome. It gave him more time to spend with Gwen, more time to accustom himself to being a single parent. Until he received a text from Kent.

_ Hey _

…

…

...

_ Wanna meet up? _

  
  


Well, he didn’t know how to react to that! At first, he just thought he should ignore the text. So he turned out the light and put the phone facedown on his nightstand, before the door slid open. Gwen stood in the door, guilty and teary-eyed, and Albany betrayed a sigh. He replaced the sheet, read her another bedtime story, a kiss goodnight, and lights out.

The phone was waiting for him on his nightstand when he returned. Albany couldn’t help picking it up, swiping it open and penning a quick response before slamming it down and rolling beneath the sheets.

_ Sure. Talk tomorrow. _

When he woke up, a response was waiting for him. 

_ Yessir xo _

Half-awake and through blurred vision, he went with his better judgment and decided to feign sleep. The drive to Gwen’s preschool was more slow and monotonous without his wife, but he’d once again resigned himself to this, and watched from the mirror as his daughter stared out the window, her eyes following the miles and miles of meadow and field. He walked her to the door, wished her a good day and hurried back to the car. His hand betrayed him, and he found himself digging in the glove compartment for his phone and was surprised to see another text waiting for him.

_ How abt the diner? You know the one _

_ The one where Cornwall had his great slip that one time lol _

_ 7pm Friday? _

Without thinking, and honestly, somewhat pleased that Kent was so dedicated to spending time together, he replied.

_ Sure _

_  
_ _ See you then xo _

He sank back in the chair. Okay, kiss-hug to your former subordinate. Whatever. No big deal. The phone fell from his hand and he smacked himself in the face when the realization hit him. He’d have to get a babysitter. Shit. All his babysitters were dead.

Maybe he should ask to change the time. He picked it up again. No. That’d be rude. That’d be backpedaling. Put it down. Wait. He’s my insubordinate. I can do what I want. Picked it up. No. He’s my equal now. I shouldn’t backpedal. Crap.

Once again, he resigned himself. He resigned himself to the date and time and the necessity to find a babysitter for his daughter when his wife would normally be filling that role. Resigned himself to destiny and the inevitability that this would happen eventually and he’d simply need to once again go through a babysitter pilgrimage. Without his wife. 

Damn, the aftermath fucking sucks.

***

He’d found a babysitter online. Paid her a fortune and told her he’d be back by 10. Good. He could relax. At 10 to 7, he was outside, and staring at his lockscreen, empty of notifications. Against his better judgment, he walked in, and through some form of divine intervention, Kent was already in a booth. He waved Albany down, smiling, and Albany slid in across from him.

“You look different,” Kent commented.

“And you’re keeping the pink.” In fact, Kent had appeared to have gone full pink. The same way Albany had decided to dress in colors other than white and black. Perhaps tragedies bring color out of people in different ways.

“I don’t know. I like it.”

“I thought you were trying to look like a slob when you did that?” Albany asked.

“I got attached to it.”

“Fair enough. Pink works on you. And there’s no anti-hair dye rule anymore, I suppose. Free reign for you to be as technicolor as you want,” Albany said, grinning to himself. “How’s Edgar?”

“Managing. How’s Gwen?”

“The same.”

Albany ordered a coffee and Kent a soda. Albany had brought one of his pocket whiskeys, and he made no trouble setting it on the table when the coffee had arrived. Kent made no comment and Albany sighed through his nose. “I thought you wanted to talk,” he said.

“I do.”

“Then you’re being quiet. Maybe I should disown my daughter and then you’ll start talking,” Albany poked. Kent pouted, pushing up his glasses and looking out the window, wide-eyed like Albany’s daughter. He poured the whiskey in and took a long sip.

“I need advice,” Kent finally said, shifting his gaze back to Albany.

“Well, you’ve come to the wrong person,” Albany replied, stirring the coffee with a spoon and raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Who else is left to talk to?” Kent demanded, stretching his hands across the table.

Okay, he got him there. Albany smiled and leaned his head backward, drumming his fingers on the table.    
  
“Alright. What do you need?”

“You’re a father. And you’re way more experienced with being… paternal, I guess.”

  
What?   
  


“So I need some help. Because I don’t know how to treat Edgar. Am I supposed to be his father? Because Gloucester… is dead, and he obviously needs help, and I-”

“Slow down. I’m no paternal sage. I’m barely managing myself, I can’t do couple’s therapy for you and Edgar. That’s not my job.”

  
“I’m not asking for couple's therapy,” Kent responded, rolling his eyes. “I’m asking for, like, you know, help. Because I can’t freaking do that. And I’m not going to let a court jester be his main advisor for all of this.”

Albany went quiet and took another sip. Kent, annoyed, leaned back with his arms folded. Pouty. Yeah, he did remind Albany of his daughter. The maturity level seemed about the same.

  
“Albany, let’s be honest with ourselves here. Who is supposed to lead?”

He stirred the coffee and exhaled through his nose, his face betraying no reaction.

  
“Because I thought you were the highest-ranking surviving official. Or, at least, the highest-ranking conscious one. You’re basically a prince. And you always looked down upon Gloucester and I, and now you want us to do your work for you? You need to give us something and stop ignoring us.” Kent went quiet again after that, and picked up his soda, giving Albany a pressing look as he sipped it through a straw.

Albany fell back, his hands pressed on the table. He closed his eyes, trying to think of a good response. Naturally, he would want to rip Kent’s insubordinate head off, but that option had been retired and he had succumbed himself to thought and breath before making a sudden choice.

“I don’t know if you want some baguette to rule but you’re the one who needs to make that decision. You need to stop distancing yourself from us. I know you have to raise your daughter now, but we want to help you, and we want to make this choice together.”

“I don’t want to govern anymore. I can’t. I’m not falling back into that trap, Kent. I won’t.”

“Albany, please. I know this is hard, but it’s better if we work together. Edgar’s already angry enough at me, I don’t want any more division. I want this to work. Please? You don’t have to govern, somebody else can govern. But, please. Please.”

Albany glanced over at Kent, his hands clasped together and his eyes pleading. Albany did feel that pang of pity. Of course a person like Kent wasn’t fit to lead. He wasn’t of noble blood, wasn’t of high status, he was an advisor with frills. That’s all he was. An advisor who reduced himself to nothing but a servant. And in Albany’s eyes, it was a death sentence for someone like that to lead. Kent was much too soft, easily malleable, not fit for the extravagance of a high office. He was a behind-the-scenes guy, and Albany was certain of that. Edgar wasn’t much better. Nor was he qualified. Barely out of sixth form, nowhere near as politically keen as his deceased bastard brother. And the Fool? Well, that title said everything. Cordelia’s on life support. Everyone else is six feet under. Besides, of course, the French.

Albany didn’t know France well but was worried by the implications of foreign leadership. Transitional folly, decay, destruction. He’d buried most political thoughts and replaced them with paternal concern, but Kent had made a good effort. Kent had made him face the disgusting truth of the aftermath. And he couldn’t help but feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders once again. This time, however, he wasn’t going to resign himself to monotony.

“Fine.”

“What?”

“I’ll help you. And the rest. You’re right. We need to figure out something, politically. A lot of rebuilding needs to be done. And no offense, Kent, truly, I bear no ill against you or the Gloucester boy, but neither you or him are anywhere close to being qualified.” He meant it. He placed his hand on top of Kent’s, hoping to provide him with some subdued affection, before drawing his hand back. “Shite, your hand’s fucking freezing.” For the first time since leadership, he let his posh accent drop, and momentarily slipped back into his Northern drawl. Embarrassed, he shifted aside and placed his hand atop Kent’s again. “Sorry.”

“No. No, I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m not a leader, I’m a follower. I can’t lead. Edgar’s not emotionally ready. Are you even…? Probably not. Look, we need to figure something out. I know it’s the last thing on your mind, but… please. We need to work out something. Anything.”

  
“The last thing I want is occupation by some  _ baguette _ ,” Albany muttered, scratching his chin. Kent snorted, looking down as he took a sip from his glass of soda.

“It’s the last thing any of us want. But we just have to work out something. A plan. And I need your help, too. You’re not less worthy than any of us. And all of us are willing to babysit Gwen, I’m sure,”

  
“I could use that assistance.”

“Of course.” Kent reached his hand over to Albany’s and gave it a firm squeeze. “We’re here. The last thing you need right now is to be isolated from us. I know we haven’t always been on the best terms with each other, but I really want things to work out.”

“Thank you. And your efforts are appreciated,” Albany replied, clearing his throat as he returned to his stolid demeanor. It was hard to be stolid in a Hawaiian shirt, but he could always try. 

“So…” Kent leaned backwards, sliding his empty glass to the side of the table. “Tomorrow. Gloucester’s place. 10’o’clock. Actually, no. Come when you feel ready. But, please, just come. We’ll be overjoyed to have you.”

Albany couldn’t reject the earnest offer. Despite the disparity in status, he could respect Kent and the efforts he had dedicated into the reconstruction. It wasn’t an easy task, and Albany had to admit his responsibility for closing himself off from the rest of them. Maybe it was grief. Prejudice. Resignation. Whatever it was, he decided that wandering around his empty and cold house all day probably wasn’t the best coping mechanism. He needed a distraction. Something. Being around other people would help. Talking politics? Maybe. Whatever it brought, he was willing to deal with it. He slid back in his chair, letting a soft smile cross his face.

“I’ll be there,” Albany reassured him. Kent smiled, his eyes warm as he squeezed Albany’s hands. 

“Thank you so much. You’ve been so brave.”

“I’m just trying to be a father, but thank you. You’ve been… adaptable.” 

He wasn’t quick to compliment Kent just yet. He’d have to earn it. Kent seemed to resign himself to that fact, as he just smiled and nodded. “That’s all I needed to hear. Thank you. Get whatever you want, it’s on me. See you tomorrow.” 

Kent slid the menu over to Albany and gave him a wink as he approached one of the waiters. Albany sighed, finishing his coffee as the door slid shut.


End file.
